by Yamato: Amicus Draconis (5b/13), English Version
Title: Amicus Draconis: 1st Cycle - Cycle of the Badger (5b/13)
Author: yamato__ishida
Rating: PG-13
Beta: notsosaintly, Lici (goodbye_rose)
Spoilers: PS/SS, CS, PoA, GoF
Summary: In the Trio’s seventh year, the wizarding world has lost its second war against the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters conquered Hogwarts, defeated the Order of the Phoenix and overthrew the Ministry of Magic. Forming a new government with Voldemort as the supreme ruler, they take control of Wizarding Europe, spreading terror and destruction everywhere. Harry and his friends are forced into hiding, but far from giving up hope they form their own secret rebellion.
In four cycles, Amicus Draconis tells the story of a world shattered and rebuilt throughout three wizarding wars, of two masterminds moving people like figures on a chessboard, and a boy torn between his destiny and his one true love.
Starter Page & Episode List
Episode 1: Children of Magic
Episode 2: Encounter at Hogwarts
Episode 3: The Underwater Quidditch Game /Part A/ /Part B/
Episode 4: Offers and Offerings /Part A/ /Part B/
Episode 5: Owl SMS /Part A/
Author’s Notes: Welcome to more mysteries, evil schemes, and power play among the Death Eaters. As always, cookies to my amazing artist Ebilein, my breathtaking beta Notsosaintly, and my brilliant Brit-picker for this chapter, Lici :-)
There will be a Part C for this chapter because it was too large for LJ and I had to split it up again.
* * *
Amicus Draconis - 1st Cycle: Cycle of the Badger - Part 5: Owl SMS
“I wonder, I wonder, do you know what I wonder?”
“You wonder how the game works, right? It’s real easy; all you have to do is copy the movements. Ready?”
“Actually, I was wondering if the weather…”
“Here it goes.”
“But…”
“Up! Down! Up! Down! Choo! Choo! Choo! Up! Down! Up! Down! Choo! Choo! Choo!”
“What?”
“Right! Hey! Left! Hey! Choo! Choo! Choo! Come on, hurry up already. You’ll never get any points until you copy the movements, and you’ll never get a boyfriend either.”
“This game is stupid.”
“You need the right-right-right clothes. Or you’ll be left-left-left out! You need fancy make-up-up-up! Always bow down-down-down to your superior! And never smo-choo-choo-choo any Muggles! Or you’ll be hey-hey-hey-hated.”
“You don’t know who you’re talking to, scum! I’m Captain Head Girl Know-it-all, mighty and invincible. I’m way-hey-hey-hey better than you are, and I’m way-hey-hey-hey too smart for these games. And I don’t need a boyfriend either.”
“But everyone needs a boyfriend. This is a fanfiction. Everyone needs boyfriends in a fanfiction.”
“Well, I don’t. I happen to have a wonderful girlfriend. And you better shut up-up-up before the mods start complaining about all your netspeak and your one word sentences.”
“Spoilsport. I H8 U4 this.”
“H8 U2.” *sticks tongue out*
“O RLY?”
“YA RLY!”
“OMG STHU b4 we get b& plz.”
Amicus Draconis - 1. Zyklus: Zyklus des Dachses - Teil 5: Eulen SMS
* * *
“Hey, SIC, take over for me. Something came up … uh … special assignment. Can’t say more; it’s … uh … confidential.”
Marcus tried his usual dirty grin on Adrian Pucey, only to realize upon seeing the other boy’s facial expression that he had failed dismally. Pucey’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion, his lips drawn back in a sneer.
“Got a problem?” On the second attempt to appear blasé and nonchalant, he didn’t fare much better. Now Pucey stared at him as if he had grown an extra head.
“No, of course, not, captain.” Marcus gave an internal sigh of relief as Adrian finally abandoned his confused expression and broke into a grin. “See you … uh … later. And hurry up, I don’t like working overtime.”
Was Pucey simply trying to make fun of the situation, or was he really suspecting something? Even if he did, he’d better keep quiet. You didn’t ask your superior about his private life.
Marcus made himself a mental note to enforce the discipline of the Ghost Riders. All of the other troops worked much more efficiently and didn’t have an authority problem. They didn’t question orders or talk back to their superiors. It looked like he really needed to do something about the morale of his people, and he would start with it as soon as he got back.
Hell, he would’ve started right now if he hadn’t been in such a hurry. But Pucey and his big lip would have to wait. For the moment, he had more pressing matters to deal with.
Avada Kedavra. The killing curse. Someone had used the killing curse on Bridget’s friend. But who? And why? Had the killer been some random wizard who wanted to have a bit of fun, or was there more behind it? Some sort of plot perhaps?
No, that couldn’t be. After all, no one knew about Bridget and him. Was he getting paranoid? Still, even if the killer was just a bloke having fun, he was possibly still around looking for more of it. And another helpless young Muggle girl was fun on a silver plate.
He had to find Bridget as quickly as possible and bring her to a safe place. But where should he take her? Who could he turn to?
Certainly not his people. Should they ever find out the truth about him and Bridget, the consequences would be severe to say the least. The Ghost Riders would lose all respect for him, and eventually he would have to step down from his post. The mere thought of this scenario made him shudder. In their book, nothing could be as unforgivable as close contact with a Muggle.
But didn’t he think the same way about Muggles? Didn’t he find them disgusting?
They certainly were. This thing with Bridget, well, it was different. A special case. She was a Muggle, yes, but she was ... Bridget.
Brooding over all these strange and complicated thoughts made his head spin, so he decided to rather stop. Right now he needed to keep a clear head so he could save Bridget. He also needed someone to help him save her, and he finally knew who. After all, there was one person who knew about him and Bridget, and that person had assured him his help not too long ago.
”Well, as long as you know your limits and keep your private life to yourself, there won’t be any trouble. I’ll make sure of it, eh?”
* * *
“Don’t be scared of us. We’re not going to hurt you. We’re here to help.”
Hermione knew that her words wouldn’t do much to comfort Bridget. How could mere words help a girl who had lost a friend in such a terrible way? And how could they make her understand what had happened? Could you explain something as complex as the wizarding world in a few simple sentences?
She felt incredibly sorry for this young woman who had been so mercilessly pulled into a war she couldn’t understand, let alone fight. In this moment she wished more than anything that there could be a way to heal Bridget’s pain and let her go back to her old life. Yet, neither pity nor ignorance would save this girl from the threat looming over her like the sword of Damocles. They needed to tell her the truth, and they needed to find out in what way she was linked to the Death Eaters. Preferably fast.
“Listen, I’m going to let go of you now. Please don’t scream or panic or try to attack us. We’re not your enemies. We’re three girls your age, so please turn around and let me explain what’s going on. Nothing bad will happen.”
Bridget spun around, and for one endlessly long moment Hermione did fear that the other girl would start to scream and charge at her, but she only stood there silently, her eyes wide open with fear. Hermione did not speak and neither did Lavender or Parvati.
“What do you all want from me?” Bridget finally asked, taking back a step.
“We’re going to explain everything, but first we need to sit down somewhere. What we have to tell you will sound very strange, almost like a fairy tale from a storybook. Nevertheless, every word of it is true.”
Hermione took a deep breath, realizing how pathetic her words sounded. This was going to be a long night.
* * *
“Don’t worry, lad, we’ll see what we can do about your little problem, eh?” Macnair’s voice sounded cheerful and reassuring; he had lost nothing of his usual jovial demeanour. “You worry too much anyways. The incident with that Muggle was unfortunate, yes, but it can’t have been more than an accident. No one would dare to lay a hand on your girlfriend. After all, she’s under the protection of one of the most powerful men in the country.
“Listen, son, I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve dealt with some of my other responsibilities. Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”
Macnair’s voice faded away and so did the green fire inside the Ignisian Cup. Only a few puffs of smoke remained, stinging uncomfortably in Marcus’ throat. He turned his face away and used a Freezing charm to cool down the hot metal of the enchanted bowl.
Should he simply wait for Macnair to contact him again? Too bad Ignisian Cups didn’t allow travel; otherwise he would have Flooed right into Macnair’s office to talk to him in person. But even if it had been possible, he couldn’t leave the park. He had to wait for Bridget.
On such a gloomy night, even Peter Pan didn’t look like a cheerful little boy anymore. His crooked smile, clearly visible in the darkness, felt like the devious smirk of a sly little demon not to be trusted. Marcus felt a sudden urge to blast the statue away, but he resisted it, knowing that a rash action like that would only get him into more trouble. What if Bridget saw him doing magic?
Well, what if Bridget saw him doing magic? They were the ones in charge now, not the Muggles.
What was taking her so long? Why wasn’t she coming? She didn’t live far from Kensington Gardens, so why wasn’t she here by now? Had something else happened? Was she in danger?
He couldn’t stand the uncertainty any longer. A Flaming Charm and a handful of Floo Powder brought the green fire back to the Ignisian Cup.
* * *
“This is weird, so weird. All of it.”
“Believe me, I know how strange this must sound to you, Bridget. I felt very much the same way when I first heard about magic. It’s hard to imagine that there is a second world out there, so different from the one you know.”
All four young women sat in Bridget’s kitchen, drinking hot tea laced with rum and planning their next step. A careful examination of the entire flat had shown them that there were no traps, assassins or any other dangers lurking nearby. They were safe, at least for the moment.
Hermione had used a spell to levitate Jenny into her room and put her on her bed. There was nothing else they could do for the poor girl. She made a mental note to call the police later on, but the Muggle police wouldn’t even be able to understand that there was a crime involved. Victims of the killing curse never showed any signs of external violence.
Once in a while, Bridget would glance nervously at the second door of the kitchen, which led to Jenny’s room, as if she hoped - or feared - her friend would come out any moment. Other than that, she seemed to struggle very hard to follow the explanations of the three young witches.
“This Voldemort person,” she wanted to know, “the one who’s supposed to be responsible for all this trouble - who is he?”
“Unfortunately, we don’t know much about him.” Hermione stirred her tea, but did not bother to touch it. “Since he came to power with his little dictatorship, he calls himself Imperial Wizard officially, but most of his followers refer to him as the Dark Lord or the Master. Twelve members of his inner circle, the so-called Death Eaters, form the Dark Council, his farce of a government. Four of them…”
“Thanks,” Bridget interrupted firmly, “but I still don’t understand what all of this has to do with me. I’m not a witch; I can’t make things float like you can, and until tonight I didn’t even know that any of it existed. Why do they want to attack me?”
“They don’t need a reason.” Lavender, who had just raised her own cup to drink, put it back on the table, untouched. “They hate Muggles, non-magic people, and they kill and torture them for entertainment.”
Bridget gave her a bewildered look. “Are you trying to say it’s a form of discrimination? Like some whites discriminate against blacks or others have a problem with foreigners? They actually think that people only count as real people if they can do magic?”
“Well, discrimination works the same way everywhere.” Parvati pushed her cup away with a look of disgust on her face. “In the wizarding world, people think I’m oh-so special because I’m pureblood. And in the Muggle world, I hear things about Indians being lazy and stealing hard-working people’s jobs.”
“Then you shouldn’t ever listen to my dad because he does say rubbish like that.” Bridget stirred her untouched tea with a spoon, staring into the dark liquid. “Maybe he would think twice about it if he knew that others despise him for not being able to pull a rabbit out of his hat. Presumed he had such thing as a brain.”
“I agree with all of you that discrimination is a horrible thing, but I don’t think it’s the reason Bridget was attacked,” Hermione interrupted in a brave attempt to steer the conversation back to its original topic. “We received your name as that of a potential victim, so whoever attacked you wanted to target you specifically, and they must have had a specific reason for doing so. If we could only find that reason, it would bring us a lot closer to the people who are behind this.”
“What do you mean ‘received my name’?” Bridget asked in confusion.
“Well, let’s put it this way. We have friends and they have friends who have spies among the enemy,” Hermione explained. “They give us information about people in danger, and then it’s our job to save those people.”
“Or, at least, we made it our job,” Parvati added. “We can’t just watch all this injustice and do nothing, so we took our chance to do some good in this world.”
“And those spies,” Bridget wondered, “they didn’t tell you what was going on? Just my name and that I’m about to be attacked?”
“It’s not that simple. Hag … ouch!” Lavender broke off in mid-sentence as Hermione kicked her under the table. “Our … er … informant gets only bits and pieces of information.”
The four girls flinched when an unexpected noise blared from the hallway, but it was only the tune of ‘Yesterday’. “Don’t worry, it’s my mobile,” Bridget explained hurriedly. “A phone, a telephone. We … uhm … non-wizard people use it for communication.”
“I know what a mobile is.” Hermione raised her eyebrows.
“Excuse me.” Bridget slipped off her chair and rushed out into the hallway.
“Was that really necessary?” Lavender grabbed hold of her foot with a pained expression as if Hermione had broken it instead of giving it a small kick.
“Yes, it was.” Hermione rose from her chair as well and walked to the door so as not to let Bridget out of her sight. “You were about to reveal Hagrid’s name. No one’s supposed to know there’s a connection between him and us. Can’t you imagine the danger he would be in if the Death Eaters ever found out?”
“But you’re the one who’s been spilling secret information for the last half-hour or so.” Lavender gave Hermione an angry scowl. “We’re not supposed to talk to Muggles about our world.”
“Yes, but in this case things are different. We need to know what’s going on, and Bridget needs to know as well. Her life is at stake.”
“We know, Hermione,” Parvati interrupted. “But we could’ve just grabbed the girl and taken her to a safe place. Remember the Muggles we saved from Hogwarts? We didn’t give them any long-winded explanations. Our job is to protect this girl, so maybe now’s not the right time for detective games.”
“But how are we supposed to protect her if we don’t know who was behind the attack and why? There’s something wrong here. I just can’t seem to grasp what it is….”
Hermione paced the kitchen, glancing briefly into the hallway where Bridget was still talking on the phone. “Maybe, from now on, we should follow a different policy concerning Muggles. I know we’re not supposed to talk to them about our world, but the government who created this rule is dead and gone. Our situation is completely different now.
“Back then, they weren’t in any danger from wizards. They are now. They have a right to know who’s threatening them. Voldemort is the enemy of wizards and Muggles alike.”
Lavender and Parvati exchanged nervous looks; this was one of those well-known situations when Hermione Granger thought herself smarter than the rest of the world. Since there was nothing they could reply, except for, ‘We always did it that way, why should we change it now?’ they decided to remain silent and let Hermione talk herself out of it.
“All right, I’ll talk to you in a minute.”
Bridget came back into the kitchen, still holding her mobile. “It was my boyfriend. I couldn’t really explain things on the phone, so I told him to come over. He’ll be here in a minute.” She said those words very defiantly as if she was waiting for someone to contradict her.
“Great.” Lavender gave a sigh. “Let’s explain everything once again to another Muggle.”
“Bridget, what’s going on?” There was a note of suspicion in Hermione’s voice when she addressed the other girl. “What are you not telling us?”
“What do you mean by that?” Bridget narrowed her eyes, scowling at Hermione.
“I’m Muggle-born, so I know what a phone is. And I know how it works. And this phone doesn’t work at all because it’s turned off. It was turned off when you came back into this room pretending to talk to your boyfriend.”
“I was talking to him!” Bridget raised her voice, almost shouting now. “Yes, I know the phone’s broken. I don’t know why he could still reach me. There’s probably some technical explanation for this.”
“Explanation, yes, technical, no.” Hermione snatched the phone from Bridget’s hand, running her wand over it. “The explanation is quite simple: that phone is bewitched.”
None of the other girls was able to say a word. A bewitched mobile phone? Who would ever have heard of such a thing?
“Bridget, who else had any access to this phone?”
“Jenny, perhaps, but I’m sure she’s … was no witch. And maybe my boyfriend, but he wouldn’t have done anything with it. He doesn’t understand technical stuff very well, and that’s what makes him so special. All the other blokes are constantly going on about their mobiles and computers and that new music player that just came out, MP3 or whatever it’s called, but he’s different. He’s…”
Hermione gasped, a terrible suspicion flashing through her mind. “Bridget, what’s your boyfriend’s name?”
Before Bridget could answer her, someone rang the doorbell.
Everyone jumped in their chairs. “I’ll accompany Bridget to the door,” said Hermione, who was already standing. ”You two give us cover.”
Lavender and Parvati stayed back in the hallway, their drawn wands directed at the entrance while Hermione carefully approached the door, followed by a trembling Bridget. “Hello,” Bridget asked nervously. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me,” a voice called from outside, a voice Hermione was certain she had heard before. “Bridget, open the door, quick!”
“Marcus!” Bridget gave a sigh of relief and was about to release the door chain when Hermione shook her head, pointing backwards. Bridget scowled at her, but nonetheless she took cover behind the wardrobe cabinet as instructed.
As the door opened, three wands were directed at it.
“Hello, Flint,” Hermione said coolly. “It’s been a while.”
* * *
“How many times do I have to say it, I’m not responsible for the attack! Why would I want to attack my own girlfriend?”
“Let’s see, maybe because you’ve grown tired of her. She’s no longer fun.”
“And she endangers your career. What if your little Death Eater friends found out about her? Maybe they already did.”
“Does someone like you really need a reason to kill a Muggle?”
After having disarmed Marcus, they all had returned to the kitchen to question him. The three young witches kept an Argus-eyed watch on him, their wands at the ready, while Bridget sat next to her boyfriend, scared and confused. Her Marcus was supposed to be a wizard? And an evil one at that, a supporter of the inhuman regime she had learned about during this last hour. Could this even be possible?
No, it couldn’t be. It had to be a mistake. The Marcus she knew couldn’t hurt a fly.
She was on the brink of tears again, but this time she held them back, trying desperately to keep her temper. By no means would she let those strange girls with their weird stories about witches palter with her love for her boyfriend. And neither would she let them hurt said boyfriend.
“Don’t worry, we have no intention of hurting him.” Hermione hadn’t missed Bridget’s hostile expression and the suspicion in her eyes. “Well, at least not as long as he behaves himself,” she added in a harder tone. After all, she didn’t want Flint to become too sure of himself and start getting ideas.
“He didn’t do anything,” Bridget sobbed. “This is a mistake, a terrible mistake!”
“Well, if it’s the murder you’re talking about, I believe you,” Hermione interrupted. “It’s pretty unlikely that Flint is behind it. It seems that the killer mistook your friend Jenny for you, and I should think that Flint knows what his so-called girlfriend looks like. Besides if I remember right, you and he were together when the murder happened.”
She leaned over the table, gazing suspiciously into Bridget’s eyes. “Would you have covered for him if he hadn’t been with you during that time? Would you?”
Bridget didn’t answer. She averted her face and finally burst into tears, unable to bite them back any longer. As Marcus moved, the three witches startled and raised their wands higher, but all he did was put an arm around Bridget, pulling her close. He was crying as well, even if he did his best not to show it.
Hermione wasn’t impressed in the least. “So, you’re not responsible for this murder, but this doesn’t change anything about the things you’ve done, the crimes you’ve committed! How many Muggles did you torture and kill, how many of them? You didn’t get into such an important position by big talk alone, did you? Did you?”
“I’m not important,” Marcus sobbed, not daring to meet Hermione’s eyes. “They’re the big guys. I only follow my orders.”
“Oh, how convenient,” Hermione said coldly. She turned to Lavender and Parvati, who had begun whispering. “What’s wrong?”
The two exchanged a couple of nervous looks until Lavender finally broke the silence: “Hermione, could we have a quick word with you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“No, not in here, in private.” Lavender beckoned to the door leading into the hallway.
Hermione shook her head. “We can’t all leave the room together. At least one of us must stay behind to keep an eye on Flint.”
“I’ll do that,” Parvati promised. “You two go on ahead. Lavender will explain everything.”
“Why me?” Lavender mildly protested. “You’re much better at explaining things. Oh, well, if I must….” She gave a sigh, rising from her chair.
“What’s going on?” Hermione asked as soon as Lavender had closed the wooden-framed kitchen door behind them. “Any new ideas about the murder?”
“Well, we…” The slightly ironical tone in which Hermione had asked that last question clearly indicated that she did not believe Lavender and Parvati capable of coming up with anything important. Lavender swallowed hard and finally tried a more direct approach: “Don’t you feel sorry for them at all?”
“What do you mean, ‘feel sorry for them’?” Hermione had no idea where this conversation was going, but it was so like Lavender to pull her out from an important interrogation to talk about feelings. She hoped they would be able to deal with this quickly and get back to business. Now that Bridget’s connection to the Death Eaters was revealed, it was clear that she was in far more danger than they had first assumed.
“I mean that they’re in trouble and we should help them. Isn’t that our job at New Hogwarts?” Lavender asked defiantly.
“Well, obviously. That’s what we’re trying to do, isn’t it? Or did you and Parvati have something else in mind?”
“Well, we thought … Couldn’t we take Bridget and Flint with us? Inside our hideout they both would be safe.”
“I can’t believe that you actually want to show our hideout to a Death Eater,” Hermione hissed, trying to keep her voice down. “Lavender, have you gone completely mad?”
“No, wait, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. Just look at them. I mean, just look at them…” Lavender broke off, gazing through the milky glass of the kitchen door where two blurred shapes held each other in a comforting embrace. “What a heartbreaking scene,” Hermione remarked dryly, her tone like ice.
Lavender couldn’t believe her ears. “How ... how can you be so callous?” she stammered. “Don’t you have any heart at all?”
“Oh, no, I’m completely heartless when it comes to people who try to play the tear-jerker card on me. ‘I’m not important. I just follow my orders.’ What’s next, bad childhood and abusive father? If that bloke is looking for someone to pat his shoulder and tell him that everything will be fine, he definitely knocked on the wrong door. I’m not stupid enough to fall for it!”
‘Not anymore,’ she added silently to herself.
“Of course, I forgot that little Miss Perfect can see through such evil manipulations,” Lavender snapped back. She had started shouting now, shocked by the force of her emotions breaking through. “Damn, Hermione, you’re so egoistic and self-righteous, with your holier-than-thou attitude, I can’t bear it any longer! You hypocrite! We should help those people, and all you do is just stand there and sneer at their suffering. How can you do this? How can you be like that? God, Hermione, I don’t understand you, I really don’t!”
It seemed to Hermione that the unsaid words of many many years had waited for this particular moment to burst through the surface of the shallow and tentative relationship she had built with Lavender during their time at Hogwarts. Why couldn’t they have had this conversation a long time ago? Why now, in the midst of all this trouble? They could never work this out between a kitchen door, a rescue mission, a scared Muggle girl and her crying Death Eater boyfriend…
Lavender’s words had struck a chord with her, hurting her in a way she hadn’t thought possible. She felt like yelling and screaming and shouting at the other girl, but she forced herself to remain calm. “I’m not a hypocrite,” she insisted. “I may seem a bit harsh sometimes because I tend to base my decisions on thought rather than feeling, and that’s definitely not the way you do it. Still, this doesn’t mean that I would simply deny my help and walk away while others are suffering.”
“Then … then let’s help those two,” Lavender pleaded.
“Lavender, that boy lied to his girlfriend ever since he met her. He told her stories about love and romance, while in truth he supports a system that despises and kills people like her. What kind of love is that supposed to be? And now that she found him out, did you hear him telling her the truth? Did he even apologize? No, nothing. All he does is cry, play the innocent victim and wait for us to step in like superheroes and make his problems go away.” Hermione shot Flint an angry glance.
“Yes, but I’m sure he’s sorry for what he’s done. Did you ever see Flint cry before?”
“No, and I agree with you that these are honest tears and not simply a show put on to manipulate us. Maybe he’s not a bad person, maybe he truly has feelings for Bridget, but it’s not enough. I want to hear him say that he’s sorry, that he’s ready to change, and I want to hear these words from his own mouth. He has to stop being such a coward, for Merlin’s sake! No, for Bridget’s sake … oh, whatever.” Hermione took a deep breath.
“You expect him to take a stand against Vol … against Voldemort, don’t you? But it’s not as easy as it sounds…”
“Nobody said it was going to be easy, but yes, that’s what I expect. And Bridget can expect no less from a man who wants to be her partner in life. He has to take responsibility for the crimes he committed, and he has to try to make up for them. He has to be completely honest with her from now on. No more lies, no more blaming others, no more licking Voldemort’s boots. We’ll be here to catch him, but he’s the one who has to make the jump.”
“I’m beginning to see your point, Hermione, but I still think that he’ll need our help to make that decision. You know, Flint may have been Quidditch captain, but he was never a high-flyer, so he probably needs a bit of a push in the right direction. Why don’t we go back inside and you talk to him like you’ve just talked to me? Explain to him what he needs to do, and I’m sure he’ll gladly turn his back on the Death Eaters.”
Lavender’s voice sounded hopeful, but Hermione did not share her positive view of things. “I’ll give it my best try, but I don’t think he’s strong enough. However, I do hope for Bridget’s sake that he’ll prove me wrong.”
“You know, Hermione, you sometimes have a very negative attitude. I mean, how can you be so sure of this?”
“I can’t, but I…” Hermione paused, and Lavender could almost feel her inner struggle as she continued. “It is … let’s just say it’s not the first talk of this kind. Some time ago, before Voldemort took power, there was a situation similar to this one. A boy and a girl fell in love, but she was considered beneath him and he wasn’t especially good at handling pressure.”
She sighed, switching back to her matter-of-fact voice. “Well, to cut a long story short, the whole thing didn’t work out.”
“That boy’s name,” Lavender asked cautiously, “was Viktor Krum, wasn’t it?”
Hermione opened her mouth, but before she was able to speak, the silence was broken by the ear-splitting crash of a door being blasted out of its frame. On pure instinct, with absolutely no clue what was going on, both girls dropped to the floor, grasping for their wands. Their quick reaction had most likely saved their lives because the very next moment it was raining spells over their heads. One of them flashed by so close, that Hermione could swear it had singed her hair, but there was no way she would raise her head to check. “Protego!” she yelled, managing to create a shield over them that warded off the next couple of blows.
“Expelliarmus!” Parvati had pushed open the door, returning the attack and buying them a few seconds time to scramble back into the kitchen. “Two, Blood Legion,” she gasped, pulling Bridget to the floor. Marcus had already taken cover behind the table.
“Move the furniture and get out of the kitchen!” Hermione ordered. If their attackers truly were from the Blood Legion and if they had seen the interior of the kitchen, no one was safe in here anymore. She urged Bridget and Marcus through the second door into Jenny’s room and helped Lavender move the table while Parvati knocked over all the chairs. A couple of seconds later, they too had withdrawn into the next room.
Hermione’s assumption had been correct. Just as the young witches rushed towards the window, they could hear the loud cracks of Apparition behind them, followed by angry curses and the splintering of wood. It seemed that at least one of the Death Eaters had found himself in an unpleasant encounter with the rearranged kitchen furniture. Nevertheless, such small troubles wouldn’t keep their enemies for long. They had to hurry.
She blasted the window apart, not bothering to open it the conventional way. They had to get away as fast as possible; they wouldn’t stand a chance in an open fight with the Blood Legion, and much less so if they had to protect Flint and Bridget as well. As she Accioed their brooms, she remembered with a cold shock that they had left Marcus’s wand in the kitchen. How was he supposed to defend himself?
As it seemed, Marcus had other plans. He rushed back to the door, shoving it open with one hand and grabbed Bridget’s arm with the other, pulling her with him into the kitchen. “We’re here!” he shouted. “I’m Flint, the captain of the Ghost Riders!”
“Lord Macnair sent us,” one of the Red Robes answered, nursing a bleeding leg, while his companion lay sprawled on the ground, foraging for his wand. “He informed us that you require assistance.”
“I do.” Marcus closed the door and held out a hand to pull the other young man up, letting go of Bridget’s arm. “We’re under attack from the Order of the Phoenix.”
Continue to Part C
Author: yamato__ishida
Rating: PG-13
Beta: notsosaintly, Lici (goodbye_rose)
Spoilers: PS/SS, CS, PoA, GoF
Summary: In the Trio’s seventh year, the wizarding world has lost its second war against the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters conquered Hogwarts, defeated the Order of the Phoenix and overthrew the Ministry of Magic. Forming a new government with Voldemort as the supreme ruler, they take control of Wizarding Europe, spreading terror and destruction everywhere. Harry and his friends are forced into hiding, but far from giving up hope they form their own secret rebellion.
In four cycles, Amicus Draconis tells the story of a world shattered and rebuilt throughout three wizarding wars, of two masterminds moving people like figures on a chessboard, and a boy torn between his destiny and his one true love.
Starter Page & Episode List
Episode 1: Children of Magic
Episode 2: Encounter at Hogwarts
Episode 3: The Underwater Quidditch Game /Part A/ /Part B/
Episode 4: Offers and Offerings /Part A/ /Part B/
Episode 5: Owl SMS /Part A/
Author’s Notes: Welcome to more mysteries, evil schemes, and power play among the Death Eaters. As always, cookies to my amazing artist Ebilein, my breathtaking beta Notsosaintly, and my brilliant Brit-picker for this chapter, Lici :-)
There will be a Part C for this chapter because it was too large for LJ and I had to split it up again.
* * *
Amicus Draconis - 1st Cycle: Cycle of the Badger - Part 5: Owl SMS
“I wonder, I wonder, do you know what I wonder?”
“You wonder how the game works, right? It’s real easy; all you have to do is copy the movements. Ready?”
“Actually, I was wondering if the weather…”
“Here it goes.”
“But…”
“Up! Down! Up! Down! Choo! Choo! Choo! Up! Down! Up! Down! Choo! Choo! Choo!”
“What?”
“Right! Hey! Left! Hey! Choo! Choo! Choo! Come on, hurry up already. You’ll never get any points until you copy the movements, and you’ll never get a boyfriend either.”
“This game is stupid.”
“You need the right-right-right clothes. Or you’ll be left-left-left out! You need fancy make-up-up-up! Always bow down-down-down to your superior! And never smo-choo-choo-choo any Muggles! Or you’ll be hey-hey-hey-hated.”
“You don’t know who you’re talking to, scum! I’m Captain Head Girl Know-it-all, mighty and invincible. I’m way-hey-hey-hey better than you are, and I’m way-hey-hey-hey too smart for these games. And I don’t need a boyfriend either.”
“But everyone needs a boyfriend. This is a fanfiction. Everyone needs boyfriends in a fanfiction.”
“Well, I don’t. I happen to have a wonderful girlfriend. And you better shut up-up-up before the mods start complaining about all your netspeak and your one word sentences.”
“Spoilsport. I H8 U4 this.”
“H8 U2.” *sticks tongue out*
“O RLY?”
“YA RLY!”
“OMG STHU b4 we get b& plz.”
Amicus Draconis - 1. Zyklus: Zyklus des Dachses - Teil 5: Eulen SMS
* * *
“Hey, SIC, take over for me. Something came up … uh … special assignment. Can’t say more; it’s … uh … confidential.”
Marcus tried his usual dirty grin on Adrian Pucey, only to realize upon seeing the other boy’s facial expression that he had failed dismally. Pucey’s eyes were narrowed in suspicion, his lips drawn back in a sneer.
“Got a problem?” On the second attempt to appear blasé and nonchalant, he didn’t fare much better. Now Pucey stared at him as if he had grown an extra head.
“No, of course, not, captain.” Marcus gave an internal sigh of relief as Adrian finally abandoned his confused expression and broke into a grin. “See you … uh … later. And hurry up, I don’t like working overtime.”
Was Pucey simply trying to make fun of the situation, or was he really suspecting something? Even if he did, he’d better keep quiet. You didn’t ask your superior about his private life.
Marcus made himself a mental note to enforce the discipline of the Ghost Riders. All of the other troops worked much more efficiently and didn’t have an authority problem. They didn’t question orders or talk back to their superiors. It looked like he really needed to do something about the morale of his people, and he would start with it as soon as he got back.
Hell, he would’ve started right now if he hadn’t been in such a hurry. But Pucey and his big lip would have to wait. For the moment, he had more pressing matters to deal with.
Avada Kedavra. The killing curse. Someone had used the killing curse on Bridget’s friend. But who? And why? Had the killer been some random wizard who wanted to have a bit of fun, or was there more behind it? Some sort of plot perhaps?
No, that couldn’t be. After all, no one knew about Bridget and him. Was he getting paranoid? Still, even if the killer was just a bloke having fun, he was possibly still around looking for more of it. And another helpless young Muggle girl was fun on a silver plate.
He had to find Bridget as quickly as possible and bring her to a safe place. But where should he take her? Who could he turn to?
Certainly not his people. Should they ever find out the truth about him and Bridget, the consequences would be severe to say the least. The Ghost Riders would lose all respect for him, and eventually he would have to step down from his post. The mere thought of this scenario made him shudder. In their book, nothing could be as unforgivable as close contact with a Muggle.
But didn’t he think the same way about Muggles? Didn’t he find them disgusting?
They certainly were. This thing with Bridget, well, it was different. A special case. She was a Muggle, yes, but she was ... Bridget.
Brooding over all these strange and complicated thoughts made his head spin, so he decided to rather stop. Right now he needed to keep a clear head so he could save Bridget. He also needed someone to help him save her, and he finally knew who. After all, there was one person who knew about him and Bridget, and that person had assured him his help not too long ago.
”Well, as long as you know your limits and keep your private life to yourself, there won’t be any trouble. I’ll make sure of it, eh?”
* * *
“Don’t be scared of us. We’re not going to hurt you. We’re here to help.”
Hermione knew that her words wouldn’t do much to comfort Bridget. How could mere words help a girl who had lost a friend in such a terrible way? And how could they make her understand what had happened? Could you explain something as complex as the wizarding world in a few simple sentences?
She felt incredibly sorry for this young woman who had been so mercilessly pulled into a war she couldn’t understand, let alone fight. In this moment she wished more than anything that there could be a way to heal Bridget’s pain and let her go back to her old life. Yet, neither pity nor ignorance would save this girl from the threat looming over her like the sword of Damocles. They needed to tell her the truth, and they needed to find out in what way she was linked to the Death Eaters. Preferably fast.
“Listen, I’m going to let go of you now. Please don’t scream or panic or try to attack us. We’re not your enemies. We’re three girls your age, so please turn around and let me explain what’s going on. Nothing bad will happen.”
Bridget spun around, and for one endlessly long moment Hermione did fear that the other girl would start to scream and charge at her, but she only stood there silently, her eyes wide open with fear. Hermione did not speak and neither did Lavender or Parvati.
“What do you all want from me?” Bridget finally asked, taking back a step.
“We’re going to explain everything, but first we need to sit down somewhere. What we have to tell you will sound very strange, almost like a fairy tale from a storybook. Nevertheless, every word of it is true.”
Hermione took a deep breath, realizing how pathetic her words sounded. This was going to be a long night.
* * *
“Don’t worry, lad, we’ll see what we can do about your little problem, eh?” Macnair’s voice sounded cheerful and reassuring; he had lost nothing of his usual jovial demeanour. “You worry too much anyways. The incident with that Muggle was unfortunate, yes, but it can’t have been more than an accident. No one would dare to lay a hand on your girlfriend. After all, she’s under the protection of one of the most powerful men in the country.
“Listen, son, I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve dealt with some of my other responsibilities. Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”
Macnair’s voice faded away and so did the green fire inside the Ignisian Cup. Only a few puffs of smoke remained, stinging uncomfortably in Marcus’ throat. He turned his face away and used a Freezing charm to cool down the hot metal of the enchanted bowl.
Should he simply wait for Macnair to contact him again? Too bad Ignisian Cups didn’t allow travel; otherwise he would have Flooed right into Macnair’s office to talk to him in person. But even if it had been possible, he couldn’t leave the park. He had to wait for Bridget.
On such a gloomy night, even Peter Pan didn’t look like a cheerful little boy anymore. His crooked smile, clearly visible in the darkness, felt like the devious smirk of a sly little demon not to be trusted. Marcus felt a sudden urge to blast the statue away, but he resisted it, knowing that a rash action like that would only get him into more trouble. What if Bridget saw him doing magic?
Well, what if Bridget saw him doing magic? They were the ones in charge now, not the Muggles.
What was taking her so long? Why wasn’t she coming? She didn’t live far from Kensington Gardens, so why wasn’t she here by now? Had something else happened? Was she in danger?
He couldn’t stand the uncertainty any longer. A Flaming Charm and a handful of Floo Powder brought the green fire back to the Ignisian Cup.
* * *
“This is weird, so weird. All of it.”
“Believe me, I know how strange this must sound to you, Bridget. I felt very much the same way when I first heard about magic. It’s hard to imagine that there is a second world out there, so different from the one you know.”
All four young women sat in Bridget’s kitchen, drinking hot tea laced with rum and planning their next step. A careful examination of the entire flat had shown them that there were no traps, assassins or any other dangers lurking nearby. They were safe, at least for the moment.
Hermione had used a spell to levitate Jenny into her room and put her on her bed. There was nothing else they could do for the poor girl. She made a mental note to call the police later on, but the Muggle police wouldn’t even be able to understand that there was a crime involved. Victims of the killing curse never showed any signs of external violence.
Once in a while, Bridget would glance nervously at the second door of the kitchen, which led to Jenny’s room, as if she hoped - or feared - her friend would come out any moment. Other than that, she seemed to struggle very hard to follow the explanations of the three young witches.
“This Voldemort person,” she wanted to know, “the one who’s supposed to be responsible for all this trouble - who is he?”
“Unfortunately, we don’t know much about him.” Hermione stirred her tea, but did not bother to touch it. “Since he came to power with his little dictatorship, he calls himself Imperial Wizard officially, but most of his followers refer to him as the Dark Lord or the Master. Twelve members of his inner circle, the so-called Death Eaters, form the Dark Council, his farce of a government. Four of them…”
“Thanks,” Bridget interrupted firmly, “but I still don’t understand what all of this has to do with me. I’m not a witch; I can’t make things float like you can, and until tonight I didn’t even know that any of it existed. Why do they want to attack me?”
“They don’t need a reason.” Lavender, who had just raised her own cup to drink, put it back on the table, untouched. “They hate Muggles, non-magic people, and they kill and torture them for entertainment.”
Bridget gave her a bewildered look. “Are you trying to say it’s a form of discrimination? Like some whites discriminate against blacks or others have a problem with foreigners? They actually think that people only count as real people if they can do magic?”
“Well, discrimination works the same way everywhere.” Parvati pushed her cup away with a look of disgust on her face. “In the wizarding world, people think I’m oh-so special because I’m pureblood. And in the Muggle world, I hear things about Indians being lazy and stealing hard-working people’s jobs.”
“Then you shouldn’t ever listen to my dad because he does say rubbish like that.” Bridget stirred her untouched tea with a spoon, staring into the dark liquid. “Maybe he would think twice about it if he knew that others despise him for not being able to pull a rabbit out of his hat. Presumed he had such thing as a brain.”
“I agree with all of you that discrimination is a horrible thing, but I don’t think it’s the reason Bridget was attacked,” Hermione interrupted in a brave attempt to steer the conversation back to its original topic. “We received your name as that of a potential victim, so whoever attacked you wanted to target you specifically, and they must have had a specific reason for doing so. If we could only find that reason, it would bring us a lot closer to the people who are behind this.”
“What do you mean ‘received my name’?” Bridget asked in confusion.
“Well, let’s put it this way. We have friends and they have friends who have spies among the enemy,” Hermione explained. “They give us information about people in danger, and then it’s our job to save those people.”
“Or, at least, we made it our job,” Parvati added. “We can’t just watch all this injustice and do nothing, so we took our chance to do some good in this world.”
“And those spies,” Bridget wondered, “they didn’t tell you what was going on? Just my name and that I’m about to be attacked?”
“It’s not that simple. Hag … ouch!” Lavender broke off in mid-sentence as Hermione kicked her under the table. “Our … er … informant gets only bits and pieces of information.”
The four girls flinched when an unexpected noise blared from the hallway, but it was only the tune of ‘Yesterday’. “Don’t worry, it’s my mobile,” Bridget explained hurriedly. “A phone, a telephone. We … uhm … non-wizard people use it for communication.”
“I know what a mobile is.” Hermione raised her eyebrows.
“Excuse me.” Bridget slipped off her chair and rushed out into the hallway.
“Was that really necessary?” Lavender grabbed hold of her foot with a pained expression as if Hermione had broken it instead of giving it a small kick.
“Yes, it was.” Hermione rose from her chair as well and walked to the door so as not to let Bridget out of her sight. “You were about to reveal Hagrid’s name. No one’s supposed to know there’s a connection between him and us. Can’t you imagine the danger he would be in if the Death Eaters ever found out?”
“But you’re the one who’s been spilling secret information for the last half-hour or so.” Lavender gave Hermione an angry scowl. “We’re not supposed to talk to Muggles about our world.”
“Yes, but in this case things are different. We need to know what’s going on, and Bridget needs to know as well. Her life is at stake.”
“We know, Hermione,” Parvati interrupted. “But we could’ve just grabbed the girl and taken her to a safe place. Remember the Muggles we saved from Hogwarts? We didn’t give them any long-winded explanations. Our job is to protect this girl, so maybe now’s not the right time for detective games.”
“But how are we supposed to protect her if we don’t know who was behind the attack and why? There’s something wrong here. I just can’t seem to grasp what it is….”
Hermione paced the kitchen, glancing briefly into the hallway where Bridget was still talking on the phone. “Maybe, from now on, we should follow a different policy concerning Muggles. I know we’re not supposed to talk to them about our world, but the government who created this rule is dead and gone. Our situation is completely different now.
“Back then, they weren’t in any danger from wizards. They are now. They have a right to know who’s threatening them. Voldemort is the enemy of wizards and Muggles alike.”
Lavender and Parvati exchanged nervous looks; this was one of those well-known situations when Hermione Granger thought herself smarter than the rest of the world. Since there was nothing they could reply, except for, ‘We always did it that way, why should we change it now?’ they decided to remain silent and let Hermione talk herself out of it.
“All right, I’ll talk to you in a minute.”
Bridget came back into the kitchen, still holding her mobile. “It was my boyfriend. I couldn’t really explain things on the phone, so I told him to come over. He’ll be here in a minute.” She said those words very defiantly as if she was waiting for someone to contradict her.
“Great.” Lavender gave a sigh. “Let’s explain everything once again to another Muggle.”
“Bridget, what’s going on?” There was a note of suspicion in Hermione’s voice when she addressed the other girl. “What are you not telling us?”
“What do you mean by that?” Bridget narrowed her eyes, scowling at Hermione.
“I’m Muggle-born, so I know what a phone is. And I know how it works. And this phone doesn’t work at all because it’s turned off. It was turned off when you came back into this room pretending to talk to your boyfriend.”
“I was talking to him!” Bridget raised her voice, almost shouting now. “Yes, I know the phone’s broken. I don’t know why he could still reach me. There’s probably some technical explanation for this.”
“Explanation, yes, technical, no.” Hermione snatched the phone from Bridget’s hand, running her wand over it. “The explanation is quite simple: that phone is bewitched.”
None of the other girls was able to say a word. A bewitched mobile phone? Who would ever have heard of such a thing?
“Bridget, who else had any access to this phone?”
“Jenny, perhaps, but I’m sure she’s … was no witch. And maybe my boyfriend, but he wouldn’t have done anything with it. He doesn’t understand technical stuff very well, and that’s what makes him so special. All the other blokes are constantly going on about their mobiles and computers and that new music player that just came out, MP3 or whatever it’s called, but he’s different. He’s…”
Hermione gasped, a terrible suspicion flashing through her mind. “Bridget, what’s your boyfriend’s name?”
Before Bridget could answer her, someone rang the doorbell.
Everyone jumped in their chairs. “I’ll accompany Bridget to the door,” said Hermione, who was already standing. ”You two give us cover.”
Lavender and Parvati stayed back in the hallway, their drawn wands directed at the entrance while Hermione carefully approached the door, followed by a trembling Bridget. “Hello,” Bridget asked nervously. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me,” a voice called from outside, a voice Hermione was certain she had heard before. “Bridget, open the door, quick!”
“Marcus!” Bridget gave a sigh of relief and was about to release the door chain when Hermione shook her head, pointing backwards. Bridget scowled at her, but nonetheless she took cover behind the wardrobe cabinet as instructed.
As the door opened, three wands were directed at it.
“Hello, Flint,” Hermione said coolly. “It’s been a while.”
* * *
“How many times do I have to say it, I’m not responsible for the attack! Why would I want to attack my own girlfriend?”
“Let’s see, maybe because you’ve grown tired of her. She’s no longer fun.”
“And she endangers your career. What if your little Death Eater friends found out about her? Maybe they already did.”
“Does someone like you really need a reason to kill a Muggle?”
After having disarmed Marcus, they all had returned to the kitchen to question him. The three young witches kept an Argus-eyed watch on him, their wands at the ready, while Bridget sat next to her boyfriend, scared and confused. Her Marcus was supposed to be a wizard? And an evil one at that, a supporter of the inhuman regime she had learned about during this last hour. Could this even be possible?
No, it couldn’t be. It had to be a mistake. The Marcus she knew couldn’t hurt a fly.
She was on the brink of tears again, but this time she held them back, trying desperately to keep her temper. By no means would she let those strange girls with their weird stories about witches palter with her love for her boyfriend. And neither would she let them hurt said boyfriend.
“Don’t worry, we have no intention of hurting him.” Hermione hadn’t missed Bridget’s hostile expression and the suspicion in her eyes. “Well, at least not as long as he behaves himself,” she added in a harder tone. After all, she didn’t want Flint to become too sure of himself and start getting ideas.
“He didn’t do anything,” Bridget sobbed. “This is a mistake, a terrible mistake!”
“Well, if it’s the murder you’re talking about, I believe you,” Hermione interrupted. “It’s pretty unlikely that Flint is behind it. It seems that the killer mistook your friend Jenny for you, and I should think that Flint knows what his so-called girlfriend looks like. Besides if I remember right, you and he were together when the murder happened.”
She leaned over the table, gazing suspiciously into Bridget’s eyes. “Would you have covered for him if he hadn’t been with you during that time? Would you?”
Bridget didn’t answer. She averted her face and finally burst into tears, unable to bite them back any longer. As Marcus moved, the three witches startled and raised their wands higher, but all he did was put an arm around Bridget, pulling her close. He was crying as well, even if he did his best not to show it.
Hermione wasn’t impressed in the least. “So, you’re not responsible for this murder, but this doesn’t change anything about the things you’ve done, the crimes you’ve committed! How many Muggles did you torture and kill, how many of them? You didn’t get into such an important position by big talk alone, did you? Did you?”
“I’m not important,” Marcus sobbed, not daring to meet Hermione’s eyes. “They’re the big guys. I only follow my orders.”
“Oh, how convenient,” Hermione said coldly. She turned to Lavender and Parvati, who had begun whispering. “What’s wrong?”
The two exchanged a couple of nervous looks until Lavender finally broke the silence: “Hermione, could we have a quick word with you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“No, not in here, in private.” Lavender beckoned to the door leading into the hallway.
Hermione shook her head. “We can’t all leave the room together. At least one of us must stay behind to keep an eye on Flint.”
“I’ll do that,” Parvati promised. “You two go on ahead. Lavender will explain everything.”
“Why me?” Lavender mildly protested. “You’re much better at explaining things. Oh, well, if I must….” She gave a sigh, rising from her chair.
“What’s going on?” Hermione asked as soon as Lavender had closed the wooden-framed kitchen door behind them. “Any new ideas about the murder?”
“Well, we…” The slightly ironical tone in which Hermione had asked that last question clearly indicated that she did not believe Lavender and Parvati capable of coming up with anything important. Lavender swallowed hard and finally tried a more direct approach: “Don’t you feel sorry for them at all?”
“What do you mean, ‘feel sorry for them’?” Hermione had no idea where this conversation was going, but it was so like Lavender to pull her out from an important interrogation to talk about feelings. She hoped they would be able to deal with this quickly and get back to business. Now that Bridget’s connection to the Death Eaters was revealed, it was clear that she was in far more danger than they had first assumed.
“I mean that they’re in trouble and we should help them. Isn’t that our job at New Hogwarts?” Lavender asked defiantly.
“Well, obviously. That’s what we’re trying to do, isn’t it? Or did you and Parvati have something else in mind?”
“Well, we thought … Couldn’t we take Bridget and Flint with us? Inside our hideout they both would be safe.”
“I can’t believe that you actually want to show our hideout to a Death Eater,” Hermione hissed, trying to keep her voice down. “Lavender, have you gone completely mad?”
“No, wait, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. Just look at them. I mean, just look at them…” Lavender broke off, gazing through the milky glass of the kitchen door where two blurred shapes held each other in a comforting embrace. “What a heartbreaking scene,” Hermione remarked dryly, her tone like ice.
Lavender couldn’t believe her ears. “How ... how can you be so callous?” she stammered. “Don’t you have any heart at all?”
“Oh, no, I’m completely heartless when it comes to people who try to play the tear-jerker card on me. ‘I’m not important. I just follow my orders.’ What’s next, bad childhood and abusive father? If that bloke is looking for someone to pat his shoulder and tell him that everything will be fine, he definitely knocked on the wrong door. I’m not stupid enough to fall for it!”
‘Not anymore,’ she added silently to herself.
“Of course, I forgot that little Miss Perfect can see through such evil manipulations,” Lavender snapped back. She had started shouting now, shocked by the force of her emotions breaking through. “Damn, Hermione, you’re so egoistic and self-righteous, with your holier-than-thou attitude, I can’t bear it any longer! You hypocrite! We should help those people, and all you do is just stand there and sneer at their suffering. How can you do this? How can you be like that? God, Hermione, I don’t understand you, I really don’t!”
It seemed to Hermione that the unsaid words of many many years had waited for this particular moment to burst through the surface of the shallow and tentative relationship she had built with Lavender during their time at Hogwarts. Why couldn’t they have had this conversation a long time ago? Why now, in the midst of all this trouble? They could never work this out between a kitchen door, a rescue mission, a scared Muggle girl and her crying Death Eater boyfriend…
Lavender’s words had struck a chord with her, hurting her in a way she hadn’t thought possible. She felt like yelling and screaming and shouting at the other girl, but she forced herself to remain calm. “I’m not a hypocrite,” she insisted. “I may seem a bit harsh sometimes because I tend to base my decisions on thought rather than feeling, and that’s definitely not the way you do it. Still, this doesn’t mean that I would simply deny my help and walk away while others are suffering.”
“Then … then let’s help those two,” Lavender pleaded.
“Lavender, that boy lied to his girlfriend ever since he met her. He told her stories about love and romance, while in truth he supports a system that despises and kills people like her. What kind of love is that supposed to be? And now that she found him out, did you hear him telling her the truth? Did he even apologize? No, nothing. All he does is cry, play the innocent victim and wait for us to step in like superheroes and make his problems go away.” Hermione shot Flint an angry glance.
“Yes, but I’m sure he’s sorry for what he’s done. Did you ever see Flint cry before?”
“No, and I agree with you that these are honest tears and not simply a show put on to manipulate us. Maybe he’s not a bad person, maybe he truly has feelings for Bridget, but it’s not enough. I want to hear him say that he’s sorry, that he’s ready to change, and I want to hear these words from his own mouth. He has to stop being such a coward, for Merlin’s sake! No, for Bridget’s sake … oh, whatever.” Hermione took a deep breath.
“You expect him to take a stand against Vol … against Voldemort, don’t you? But it’s not as easy as it sounds…”
“Nobody said it was going to be easy, but yes, that’s what I expect. And Bridget can expect no less from a man who wants to be her partner in life. He has to take responsibility for the crimes he committed, and he has to try to make up for them. He has to be completely honest with her from now on. No more lies, no more blaming others, no more licking Voldemort’s boots. We’ll be here to catch him, but he’s the one who has to make the jump.”
“I’m beginning to see your point, Hermione, but I still think that he’ll need our help to make that decision. You know, Flint may have been Quidditch captain, but he was never a high-flyer, so he probably needs a bit of a push in the right direction. Why don’t we go back inside and you talk to him like you’ve just talked to me? Explain to him what he needs to do, and I’m sure he’ll gladly turn his back on the Death Eaters.”
Lavender’s voice sounded hopeful, but Hermione did not share her positive view of things. “I’ll give it my best try, but I don’t think he’s strong enough. However, I do hope for Bridget’s sake that he’ll prove me wrong.”
“You know, Hermione, you sometimes have a very negative attitude. I mean, how can you be so sure of this?”
“I can’t, but I…” Hermione paused, and Lavender could almost feel her inner struggle as she continued. “It is … let’s just say it’s not the first talk of this kind. Some time ago, before Voldemort took power, there was a situation similar to this one. A boy and a girl fell in love, but she was considered beneath him and he wasn’t especially good at handling pressure.”
She sighed, switching back to her matter-of-fact voice. “Well, to cut a long story short, the whole thing didn’t work out.”
“That boy’s name,” Lavender asked cautiously, “was Viktor Krum, wasn’t it?”
Hermione opened her mouth, but before she was able to speak, the silence was broken by the ear-splitting crash of a door being blasted out of its frame. On pure instinct, with absolutely no clue what was going on, both girls dropped to the floor, grasping for their wands. Their quick reaction had most likely saved their lives because the very next moment it was raining spells over their heads. One of them flashed by so close, that Hermione could swear it had singed her hair, but there was no way she would raise her head to check. “Protego!” she yelled, managing to create a shield over them that warded off the next couple of blows.
“Expelliarmus!” Parvati had pushed open the door, returning the attack and buying them a few seconds time to scramble back into the kitchen. “Two, Blood Legion,” she gasped, pulling Bridget to the floor. Marcus had already taken cover behind the table.
“Move the furniture and get out of the kitchen!” Hermione ordered. If their attackers truly were from the Blood Legion and if they had seen the interior of the kitchen, no one was safe in here anymore. She urged Bridget and Marcus through the second door into Jenny’s room and helped Lavender move the table while Parvati knocked over all the chairs. A couple of seconds later, they too had withdrawn into the next room.
Hermione’s assumption had been correct. Just as the young witches rushed towards the window, they could hear the loud cracks of Apparition behind them, followed by angry curses and the splintering of wood. It seemed that at least one of the Death Eaters had found himself in an unpleasant encounter with the rearranged kitchen furniture. Nevertheless, such small troubles wouldn’t keep their enemies for long. They had to hurry.
She blasted the window apart, not bothering to open it the conventional way. They had to get away as fast as possible; they wouldn’t stand a chance in an open fight with the Blood Legion, and much less so if they had to protect Flint and Bridget as well. As she Accioed their brooms, she remembered with a cold shock that they had left Marcus’s wand in the kitchen. How was he supposed to defend himself?
As it seemed, Marcus had other plans. He rushed back to the door, shoving it open with one hand and grabbed Bridget’s arm with the other, pulling her with him into the kitchen. “We’re here!” he shouted. “I’m Flint, the captain of the Ghost Riders!”
“Lord Macnair sent us,” one of the Red Robes answered, nursing a bleeding leg, while his companion lay sprawled on the ground, foraging for his wand. “He informed us that you require assistance.”
“I do.” Marcus closed the door and held out a hand to pull the other young man up, letting go of Bridget’s arm. “We’re under attack from the Order of the Phoenix.”
Continue to Part C